The Girl Sitting On The Grass
by Elisamaza
Summary: FIRST IN A SERIESThe girl was sitting on the grass. Her eyes were closed, her legs crossed, and her hands rested quietly on her lap. Just a few trees away, the boy was watching the girl. It's a oneshot. The first, but not the last. Not a romance...but the


**THE GIRL SITTING ON THE GRASS**

The girl was sitting on the grass, her back against the same tree she has been seeking for comfort since almost the first day she had put her feet on the old castle. Her eyes were closed, her legs crossed, and her hands rested quietly on her lap.

Just a few trees away, the boy was watching the girl.

He didn't know she was going to be there. No big surprise, since lately he would never know. Standing there, he suddenly thought that, once upon a time, so long ago, he always knew where she was, and what she was up to. If not in class, she used to be in some quiet corner of the Library, surrounded by a mountain –or two- of books and parchments and quills, searching for things like elves rights, old alchemists or just handy potions. If neither in class, nor in the Library, then there was no doubt; she would be with them. With her two best –and maybe only- friends.

The boy frowned. Today it was _the_ day. Only a year ago, they were all doing their last exams for the O.W.L.s. He had had that terrible…vision. The girl sitting on the grass, plus his other best friend, his… well, his girlfriend for a few weeks of happiness, and a couple of the best –and most peculiar- persons at Hogwarts, had followed him no matter what.

The girl sitting on the grass coughed weakly, but she didn't open her eyes. She had been cursed badly a year ago. He had never asked her again about that, he realized.

Really it was only a year ago? It felt like ages.

Suddenly, the boy felt…he couldn't put his finger on what it was. It wasn't the breathtaking pain in the chest he had been feeling non-stop since Dumbledore's funeral, two days ago. In spite of the unhealthy lack of happiness that his life had been cursed with, this time was different. Never before he had felt like this thinking of -or looking at- any of his best friends.

That's when he knew. That was it. She, the girl sitting on the grass with her eyes closed, was not his best friend. She was not _Hermione_. Ok, maybe she was. But that Hermione was just some schoolmate he had been sharing classes, meals and house with for the last year. He had told her about Malfoy, about Snape, about Death Eaters plans… but she didn't listen to him. Of course she didn't; she was not his best friend _Hermione_. His _Hermione_ would have listened to him at least. Perhaps she wouldn't have believed him; perhaps she would've said that it was crazy, as she did last year. But she would have _listened_. She would have researched, tried…_something_. She had followed him to the Ministry and beyond in a stupid crusade, for God sake. And now, he couldn't even recall when the girl's hair had stopped being bushy.

Definitely, that was not _Hermione_. But could he put all the blame on her? He tried to think for a moment. The little time he had been going out with Ginny, of course they had spent less time together. The monster in his chest was very demanding, obviously… And before? What about before? No, he hadn't been the same Harry either. He had been reckless, he had been cocky, he had been… oh Lord. He had been an exact picture of his father in Snape's Pensieve. .

_That changes today_. He didn't want to feel like strangers. Not in the last days he was going to share with her before leaving Hogwarts. Not with her, the girl sitting in the grass.

So he started to walk towards her.

She didn't open her eyes, though he was sure he had heard him coming. The boy took seat by her side.

"Hermione"

She took a deep breath, and then smiled weakly.

"Harry"

Neither of them spoke anything for a while.

"Here you were", said him finally, looking at the lake.

"Here I am", said her, looking at the very same point.

The boy realized that he was feeling _uncomfortable_ being there, just in silence. It never used to happen before. He had to do something.

"What were you doing, Hermione?"

The girl looked at him for the first time, and then again to the lake.

"Just thinking"

"Of Dumbledore"

"Of everyone. And everything"

"You've been crying", said the boy, his words blurting out of his mouth the very moment he saw the girl's puffy eyes.

"I think too much, you must know that by now". She attempted a sad smile, and nodded slightly. He nodded too.

After a pause, she went on.

"Today… it has been hurting." The boy watched how she placed her right hand on her chest. Dolohov's curse. "Really it's been only a year? It feels like ages".

Harry stared at her with eyes wide open. He tried to say something, but words wouldn't come.

"I…when I think of that day… of Umbridge, the whole Department of Mysteries fight, is…I don't know; it's like it never happened in this reality, but in an alternative universe. I can hardly recognize anything…anyone."

She fell silent, and sighed. The boy wondered if she was aware of his presence anymore.

"Look at Neville…He's again the little scared boy that lost his toad that first day at the Hogwarts Express. And I have barely seen him talking to you or Ron this year. And Luna? I thought things would be a little different…but she has been as lonely as ever. Even more, without the DA classes."

When she didn't resume her talking, Harry took a look at her face. She was crying. He hadn't noticed the moment she had started to. There were no sobbing, no sniffing. She was just there, talking softly, almost whispering, and crying silently. It was a bitterly beautiful cry.

The girl looked at him, and smiled.

"And me?", she chuckled sadly. "Have you seen _Hermione_ this year? Because I haven't."

_So she has noticed, too_. Harry tried to remember when the last time she had seen _Hermione_ had been. And he couldn't remember. Last summer, at the Burrow? Maybe.

"All I have seen", Hermione went on, "it's a girl attending to stupid VIP parties. A girl confounding people _on purpose_ just to cheat on try outs. A girl jealous of his best friend because he was having better marks by cheating. A girl hexing her other best friend, wanting to hurt him. I _giggled, _FOR GOD SAKE!"

Harry couldn't help a smile at her words.

"Yeah, you did". But his smile faded quickly. She was now trembling, her face buried in her hands.

"Hermione…", said Harry tentatively.

"Harry…", she was now looking straight at him, her voice strained. "Can you remember the last time we actually _talked_?"

He looked down. He couldn't. Maybe the horcruxes …

"Horcruxes", said the girl, and Harry started to really believe she was a skilled Legilimens. For all he knew, she could be lots of things by now. "We've only talked about horcruxes, Harry. I'm not saying it's not important, of course it is! It's only that we did it like…like a workgroup or something… I missed… Oh, Harry, this entire year I've been feeling trapped with the troll in that bathroom again. Only this time there was no Harry or Ron missing me… I miss my friends, Harry.. I miss myself…"

Her voice was dissolved into sobs. No more quiet tears. Now she was shaking.

Lonely. Hermione had been feeling lonely for a whole year. He had had the Half Bloody Prince to help me with potions. The Won Won issue. Then he and Ginny for a few weeks. And all the time, she was feeling lonely.

And he suddenly knew what he had to do. She had taught them well during the past years, after all.

The boy closed the distance between them. _This is going to be a little awkward_, he thought. But the moment he put his arms around her, he realized how wrong he was.

"Hermione…", he spoke softly. "It's Harry…I'm back"

He said no more. For a few moments, he thought that maybe those words, or the hug, wasn't a good idea after all, since Hermione seemed to be trembling even more violently in his arms. But maybe that was what she needed. What he, now that he came to think, had been needed badly too, but had not realized until now. He would never know the exact moment he had started to cry too. But it was healing.

They spent a few minutes like that, until Hermione began to slowly pull herself together.

"Harry I…", she looked up at him, wiping her tears. "I'm sorry I didn't listened, that I didn't help you". Harry looked down, where his right hand was still joined with hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't… me".

"Don't worry…I wasn't exactly _me_ this year either. I should have listened to you, even if you were being not _you_. I can't believe I didn't after…after last year. I suppose none of us were being ourselves". He avoided the name of his other best friend.

"Yeah...I know". She seemed calm right now, but her face was suddenly oddly hard. "I'm never going to forgive him for this year, for _every_ _damn_ year, Harry, NEVER. And it's a promise."

Harry's face paled. He had been starting to think about the three of them again. But it seemed that Hermione hadn't the same plans.

"Hermione… I'm sure Ron's already aware of…"

"I'm not talking about Ron, Harry". He looked at her, confused.

"Voldemort." Her head was down, his gaze lost into the space, but the way her voice said Voldemort would have made the boldest wizards shiver. "_Everything_ is about him. He's the one making your life hell, driving us mad, so much that here we are, fighting each other, having nightmares, and hating, hating everything. Just like him."

Harry couldn't remember Hermione like _this_. Ever. It was hatred what was printed in her face.

"We're going to do it Harry. We're going to go to the end of the Earth and back if needed, but we're going to find the last of the bloody horcruxes."

"We?", asked Harry, blinking. "Hermione, wait, I am the…"

"The what Harry?". Her voice was firm. "The Boy Who Lived? I know that one by heart. The Chosen One? Heard already. The worst one, by the way…"

Harry half smiled. Old Hermione was coming back.

"Harry…", she was now looking at him. _Really_ looking at him. "I'm going. You _know_ that no matter what, I'm going."

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, never came out.

He had imagined himself at Ginny's funeral, and he had run away from her. She had to be safe. He…liked her, or loved her, or whatever it was; he just couldn't stand the idea…

But the mental picture of Hermione's funeral happened to be as strong as the other. He tried to picture a world without Hermione in it. He imagined Ron, Ginny and himself in the Common Room, doing Transfiguration essays. He almost heard Ginny's jokes to embarrass his brother; he almost felt her light kisses before going to bed. Hermione would open the Portrait any moment, wouldn't she? He pictured himself at breakfast, looking at the door, waiting for Hermione to come in a rush, because he had to tell her something important. He pictured himself at a Quidditch match, looking for her, who would be clapping till her hands ached, only to find that she wasn't there. He pictured himself late in the night, alone, in the common room, thinking about horcruxes and Voldemort and… if only Hermione was there. But no; Hermione wouldn't be there, because she would be resting, eyes closed and very quiet, six feet under.

The familiar pain in his chest suddenly became unbearable. But this time, neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort were the reason. It was, he suddenly knew, that there was no world without Hermione in it.

The boy felt a powerful wave of warmth through his body. Maybe it was the feeling of Hermione, his Hermione, coming back again. He would never feel alone in this as long as there were an Hermione, and a Ron, by his side.

But maybe, only maybe, it was because he suddenly became very aware of their hands still intertwined.

"I don't want you dead". His voice was trembling. The boy was scared.

"I know, Harry" She said, and he found the softness of her voice comforting. "…but I'm not going to be dead. And Ron's not going to be dead. And _you_ are not going to be the Boy Who Lived But Died In The End."

The boy looked into her eyes. He knew she was lying. She couldn't possibly know for sure. He knew he shouldn't let her stay around.

But he'd always known that there was one thing Hermione Granger wasn't right about. He wasn't the most unselfish person on earth, as she believed him to be. He needed her with him. As desperately as, for some reason, he needed her hand in his at that moment.

"Promise?" His hand squeezed hers.

They became aware of the sound of steps filling the silence, as a tall red headed boy was walking towards their tree.

She smiled. And squeezed back.

"Promise"

And then their hands were free again. But the boy was smiling. She was back.

If the girl sitting on the ground had made him a promise, then he had to believe it.

Because that brave girl sitting on the ground would be right in the end. As always.

The couple had been looking at them.

They knew they shouldn't. It was getting more and more difficult every time. But they couldn't help it.

The woman was beautiful. _Of course she is_, thought the man standing beside her. Even in moments like this, crying in silence, she was ridiculously beautiful. How had Harry named it? Ah, yes; a bitterly beautiful cry.

He had been a lucky man.

Many would say that their too premature execution was reason enough to change that point of view. But they couldn't be further from reality. She was the reason he was a lucky man. And she was still with him.

There was only one little thing. One not so little thing anymore.

A little thing with round glasses and dark and rebellious hair, just like his. A little thing that was not so skinny anymore, because he was becoming a handsome young man. A little thing that had seen and suffered way too much for his little lifetime.

They were watching. They always were watching. They had watched his years at the Dursleys. He would have given his life twice again just for a couple of minutes with that Vernon bloke. But in spite of it, she still felt pity for her sister. She knew what her sister's problem was: Petunia would never forgive her that she _left_ her for this other world. Harry was a daily reminder: _she left you for that world, for that guy. And now they're both dead. _

They had also seen his first years at Hogwarts. The way he had been forced to face Voldemort to save his life, year after year, and live to tell the tale. The way he was been treated by Snape just because Harry happened to be an almost exact clone of his father. The way he suffered and missed them both. The way he had witnessed the deaths of his loved ones. Too much for anyone.

And he was only sixteen.

Of course they had also witnessed his little moments of happiness. This year, when he seemed to be so utterly happy with the little Ginny. And all the others, with the good Ron and Hermione. Lily couldn't help a smile every time she scolded the boys for be such a lawbreakers, or so lazy with their homework. So like herself… And James couldn't help but smile proudly at the two boys. Little Marauders…

They were so proud of him; of the young man he had become in spite of his cursed life. This lovely Hermione girl was right, as always. He was the most unselfish person on earth.

Yes, they were proud…but they were shattered. They could sense his fears, his nightmares, his doubts, his little moments of happiness…but they could do nothing. Nothing but watch. And hope. Maybe, eventually, he would sense their presence at every step of the way. They wished he'd be right now.

The man kissed his wife on her temple.

"My poor boy", whispered the woman, seeing how her son was gazing wordless at his crying friend. "He's so scared, James…"

The man could sense it too. _Indeed, hard times lay ahead, my boy_. Damn Riddle…

"He's a tough one, love. And he's not alone". The man was now looking intently at the couple sitting on the grass too. "You know very well that Dumbledore hasn't really left him altogether. Remus is still there, Lily. And the Weasleys, the Order…and he has Ron, and Hermione. And the Longbottom's boy, or that dreamy Luna girl. And many more others, dear. And Ginny, of course. He's a bit naïve if he really thinks she's a girl made to wait in the backstage. Besides, she loves him, and…"

His words were cut all of a sudden, as he felt a wave of warmth; a forceful and powerful wave of warmth.

"Did you felt it, James?", asked the woman, and the man saw her looking down at the couple sitting on the ground.

They were crying. Both of them. Harry was holding her tight. He could undoubtedly feel the way their souls were being soothed.

"Merlin, yes. But wait…what…"

And there it was. The golden aura, bright and powerful, that seemed to be radiating right from their hands. Their still intertwined hands.

Lily had tears in her eyes, but she was beaming.

"Yes, love"

"So… could it be her?"

"It's always been her, love."

"Really?" the man asked, amazed. "I supposed… I mean, he seemed so happy with Ginny. You just couldn't see this coming, could you? I just thought the Aura …well, they are too young. It was just a matter of time".

The woman kissed his husband.

"This is not a matter of time, love. Never been. It's a matter of hearts, a matter of souls. They've been walking towards this, James. No matter what, it's bound to happen."

They kept observing the scene in silence. Ron Weasley, his son's best friend, was walking towards them. Their hands were free again. But the Golden Aura was still there.

"So they will know eventually… I do hope it won't take too long"

The woman said nothing for a while. Her mind was having flashes of a certain cocky Gryffindor that used to show off anytime she was around. An insufferable boy that, lucky her, had happened to be the love of her life…and beyond.

"It won't, love. It has already started".

oOoOoOoO

Hey! Well, this was my first fiction EVER, so bear with me :D I would change it a little -I find it a little cheesy for my taste at the end, lol- but well...

Hugs and kisses for my readers, and twice for my reviewers! ;)


End file.
